


On the Third Day of Christmas

by ShanaStoryteller



Series: 12 Days of Christmas 2012 [3]
Category: Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Avengers (2012), Thor (Movies), Thor - All Media Types
Genre: 12 Days of Christmas, Backstory, I like Darcy, Loki's twisted mind, M/M, Mpreg, Norse Myths & Legends, this got a little out of control
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-22
Updated: 2012-12-22
Packaged: 2017-11-22 02:00:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/604577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShanaStoryteller/pseuds/ShanaStoryteller
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everything Loki does, he does for love. Anyone who doesn't know that hasn't been paying attention. </p><p>Part One. Part Two will be "Fourth Day of Christmas".</p>
            </blockquote>





	On the Third Day of Christmas

Everything Loki does, he does for love. Anyone who doesn't know that hasn't been paying attention.

*

Loki has always wanted to rule. Has wanted to be obeyed, to be looked upon, to be paid attention to. To be loved.

He has always wanted to rule.

He has never wanted to be king.

*

Loki is many things, but an idiot is not one of them.

He learns after the first time, the first time he dallies with a visiting dignitary and comes away with a swollen stomach. Thor, ever so young and still older than Loki himself, smiles at his brother's panic, lays a hand over the slightly curved abdomen, and solemnly intones that a royal child, any child of Asgard, is to be celebrated.

Thor, for all his arrogance and thoughtless cruelty, has never wanted for either loyalty or love.

"It is not only a child of Asgard," Loki says, eyes too wide and breath too quick.

"It is a child of yours, and a nephew or niece of mine. It will be Asgardian enough."

All was well, for a while. Their father had not been pleased, of course, but Mother had fluttered around Loki for the duration of his pregnancy, telling tales of when she was in a similar state, had held his hand through the birth of his child. For a while, all is well.

Then he awakes one night to a bloody cradle and Allfather's stony silence.

That morn, the very ground of Asgard shakes in his grief. He turns the water to blood, the blood of the babe stolen from him, and blocks out the bright summer sun out of spite.

This is how he holds the realm of Asgard, on his knees on the highest mountain so that he might watch his destruction, for three days until a young mother climbs up beside him. His eyes flicker to her, but he does not allow his gaze to linger.

"Please," she says, lips dry and cracked from the water she hasn't been able to drink, "do not drag us down in your mourning."

"My baby has been killed, by my own father, in my own house. I will drag you to the depths of hell. You shall all pay the debt of Allfather," his voice is cold, but his face has not been dry for seventy two hours.

A warm, squirming bundle is pushed into his arms, and he takes it automatically. He looks down to the face a red, squalling child and he at once feels his heart softening and a fresh wave of sobs crawling their way up his throat. The woman carefully places a hand on his forearm, and Loki drags his eyes to her own, brown and tired.

"In your place, I would burn it all. I would burn the world, just to watch it scream." She presses her forehead to his shoulder, "Please. Please, my prince, show us mercy, although none has been shown to you. I beg of you, that you not damn us all, however much we deserve it, for living when your child is dead."

He looks from the top of her head to the scrunched face of the infant in his arms, and presses a kiss to the child's forehead.

By the time he moves his lips, the clouds he's conjured have gone. The Asgardian sun shines brightly, even as crisp rain falls from the sky, washing the red down drains and cleansing it from rivers.

She sobs, and throws her arms about his shoulders. Blood drips down his cheek, because even as he purifies Asgard with his freshwater tears, the blood has not yet finished spilling.

She kisses his cheek, smearing her lips with blood, and says, "You are kind, and you are wise. I thank you for your mercy."

He gently pushes her away, and gives her back her babe, saying gravely, "You have swayed the heart and mind of a prince, and a grieving parent. Your powers are vast, and your heart full. I wish you and your child many moons." Her lips tremble as she bows low and walks away, her steps lighter for this blessing, of both royalty and magic, he bestows upon them.

He goes home the next day, walks into the palace as if he hasn't just proven that he has the power to bring Asgard to its knees. He kisses his mother and brother both, their faces without judgment and carved with grief as he. He then kneels in front of Odin's thunderous rage, and takes the binding of his power, not all of it - Odin says it's mercy, while Loki knows it's from lack of ability - and his punishment of ten years in the dungeons in stride.

Time will erase the trigger of Loki's actions from history. All that Asgard will remember will be the havoc Loki wrought, and not his grief in doing so.

Point being, Loki is not an idiot. Far from it, in fact. So he doesn't hide his children, exactly, but allows Allfather think that he destroys every single one of them, in one way or another. He takes his punishment gracefully, smiles even, and lets them all think him mad.

His greatest prank, his crowning achievement, is that Odin lives in ignorance that all of Loki's children, barring the one he bore when he was little more than a child himself, are alive, are healthy, and know without any of a shadow of a doubt that they are loved.

If asked his greatest feat, Thor would respond with an epic battle tale of him and Mjolnir, one which might even feature his silver-tongued brother.

When asked the same question, Loki, if he were being honest (he very rarely is), would answer: "My children know themselves to be deeply, eternally loved."

*

It's not something he'll ever know, but land of Jotunheim warmed at its prince's anguish, and the Jotuns let the ground soften beneath their feet. This is how Lafauy finds out that his son lives, and he roars to the skies.

He is torn over his son in a way that Odin never will be. On one hand, he can't imagine what pain he must be going through for the magic of Jotunheim to be reacting from a realm away - on the other hand, he now knows that his son lives.

His son, prince and heir of Jotunheim, lives.

*

Loki is clever. Most of his power has been blocked off from his since those three days, but thousands of years later he is known as a powerful magic user. He is, but it has as much to do with how he wields his magic as it does how much he has. As such, he's quite cross with himself for not realizing that Odin would choose this moment to be as cruel to Thor as he's been to Loki.

Although, this might yet be another punishment for the second prince. He had not lied to Thor before the ceremony - he has indeed been looking forward to the day of his brother's coronation for a long time. It'd mark both his freedom and his ability to rule. He is his brother's closest counsel, and as mighty a warrior and as brilliant a tactician as Thor is, a politician he is not.

So be it, then, if this is the game Allfather wants to play.

So he plots and plans, and sets events in motion which he fully expects to end in his banishment and Thor's ascension as king.

That is not what happens.

Thor is cast down to Midgard, and Loki finds the truth of his birth a bitter pill to swallow, as Odin falls into a deep sleep. Loki is not naive enough to believe that it's not calculated.

So he does what he has never wanted to do, becomes a king but not a ruler, and lies to his brother's face to break and strengthen him both. He plans traps, and sets things in motion, because Thor wants nothing more than to be king, and after his own children, it is Thor that Loki loves most.

He stands by the gatekeeper Heimdall's side, watching as his brother and his foolish friends fight, and lets a grin split his face when his brother manages to call his hammer back to him.

"I see you," Heimdall says, and Loki glances to see the older man staring at him with a heavy gaze.

"Do you now?"

"I see you. I know you. Dare I say it, I understand you."

Loki does not tear his eyes from the visage of his brother, "And what will you do with this knowledge?"

Heimdall bows his head, "I will keep my silence, until my prince commands otherwise."

It should be an insult, referring to Loki as a prince when he is a king, but Heimdall does understand him, so Loki inclines his head and takes it as the gesture of respect it is intended as.

*

It's fine, it's working, until Thor grabs his hand, eyes wet, and refuses to let him fall.

"Brother, please," after everything, Thor is loyal to him, loves him.

Odin is not a big enough man to stop himself from hating his son for loving that which he himself despises.

"Goodbye," he says instead, and lets go, lets himself fall.

He closes his eyes so that the last thing he sees is his brother's face.

*

Believing him to be dead, Odin doesn't bother to maintain the arduous chains binding Loki's magic. He feels it coursing through him with an intensity that leaves him breathless, in a way that causes his body to shift, his eyes blaze red and skin turn the palest shade of blue. He laughs, thinks of what he could do with this new wealth of power.

Then he realizes he has just given up all the things he could have wanted, and lets out a blast of lightening - not like his brother's, a bright unhappy green - in his anger. It's bright and powerful enough to catch the attention of the forgotten beings that dwell in this pocket of in-between.

That was a mistake.

*

The Chitauri are neither an intelligent nor overtly powerful race. Unfortunately, they do not have to be either, for they, somehow, in scouring Midgard for the Tesseract, have found something that is more valuable - Loki's son. He does not know how they stole Jormungand from Midgard, nor now they coxed him into his humanoid form. It does not matter, because at the sight of him, his son - fully grown for so long now, with a list of impressive feats to his name - sags in relief, his smile stretching wide to display the fangs that Loki had burned his hands sharpening, once upon a time.

He will not sacrifice the Nine Realms - the sure result if he were to acquire the Tesseract for them - but neither will he give up his son.

So he smiles back, cocks his head to the side, and begins to play a dangerous game for the second time.

He treasures his loved ones more than anything, and he will not sacrifice one of them to save another.

That being said, he prays that Thor has enough strength to withstand his coming storm.

*

It works, thank everything, and Jorgunmand is back, safe, in that lake in Scotland he so enjoys.

In the time in between the Hulk - what a magnificent creature - and Thor and his friends coming to find him, he calls Hel to his side.

"Father!" she gasps, crouching down at his side, using her dark hand to cup his face, "What happened?"

"Never mind that," he says, "I need you to do something for me."

"Anything," she swears before he can continue, and he smiles. It is times like these, before he knew the truth of his birth, that he imagined Thor's blind loyalty and stubbornness must have leaked into his daughter.

"Those that have died by my hand, especially one Phil Coulson - save them."

"Father?" she asks, voice unsure. She reigns over the dead, knows who he kills and when, and a hundred is not too many, not when it is her brother at risk especially.

Loki shrugs, or tries to at least, "It will please your uncle."

Hel scowls, "You spend too much time worrying about what does and does not please Grandfather and Uncle both."

"Or not enough," he returns, "Will you do this for me, love?"

She bites her bottom lip, and the pale side turns pink from her the force of her teeth. "Of course, Father. You'll come with me to Nifillheim now, though?"

He knows from the way she asks she already knows the answer to that question, but gentles his voice none the less, "No. I must return to Asgard, and face my punishment, as always."

Tears drip from both her eyes, and he uses his thumb to wipe them away. "It's not fair, and it's not worth it! None of us can stand for your pain."

"It is not fair, but any course of action that keeps you safe is worth it. And you will stand it, for I have raised you to be strong."

Hel nods, crying still, and kisses her father on the cheek before disappearing.

Loki breathes deep and smiles, laying back more comfortably to wait for his brother to come collect him. Selvick has likely already told them how to close the portal, and quite honestly, let them fight to last man to kill the monsters he has brought them.

His daughter will bring them back anyway.

*

They defeated the Chitauri.

Loki stares, finds his gaze drawn to the man of iron, one Tony Stark, and does not bother to look away. What a brave, foolish, stupid thing to do in order to save the ones he loves.

Stark smirks at him, and Loki finds himself returning it. If he had been born and raised a human, he imagines he would be an awful lot like this man.

"If it's all the same to you, I think I'll have that drink now," he says, and doesn't miss Thor's eye roll at his flirting.

That Thor can still feel exasperation for him, can feel anything but anger for him, gives him hope, although he's not sure what for.

*

He is sitting in a cafe in Paris when she finds him and - what are the odds? He could easily leave now, but he is curious.

Darcy Lewis stares at him from the counter, latte clutched between her hands. He raises an eyebrow at her, and shrugs before gesturing to the chair across from him. She hesitates, but sits, and he takes a moment to let his gaze sweep over her, lingering at her hair and lips both. Jane is lovely to be sure, but personally he finds this mortal to be far more captivating.

"Are you following me?" she bursts out with, and he smirks.

"I intended to ask you the same question, Miss Lewis. Apparently, the answer to both question is no. What brings you to Paris?"

"Study abroad," she sips her latte, and her nose scrunches. He could have told her it would burn her tongue. "How long has it been for you?" He tilts his head to the side, amused, and she huffs, "I know time passes differently in the other realms. And even if it didn't, it's hardly going to affect you, Mr. Trickster."

Her face blanches, as if just realizing she antagonizing an insane god, but he laughs. "A few hundred of your Earth years, but not so long for us. You?"

"A couple months," she looks down, dragging a finger along the rim of her mug.

He lets the silence be for a few moments, before asking, "How's Stark doing?"

"Tony? Uh, okay, I guess? He's still blowing shit up and making a crapton of money."

"Excellent."

She looks up, "Everyone you killed, they came back."

"I'm aware," he leans back.

"I met your daughter."

Well, that is surprising. "Did you now?"

"Yes. She's beautiful."

He looks at her sharply, but the girl meets his gaze evenly. He smiles at her, gentle, and agrees, "Yes, she is." He knows that - Hel is perfect - but many miss it.

Darcy swallows, and says, "Jane's an astronomy physicist person."

These humans, and their thought processes. "I'm aware."

"She's really good at math, and stuff, and likes what she doesn't understand. So Thor tells us stories. You're in them a lot, and he's told us - well Jane, but she tells me later - all the stories of you. I think he may have intended them as a warning - or, I don't know, but. Anyway."

He blinks, "Yes?"

"I'm a political science major," she continues, looking over his shoulder rather than directly at him.

"Yes," he says again, wondering if he keeps her talking she'll start to make sense, or simply drive him mad. Again.

She finally looks at him and says, like a challenge, "Isn't it funny, that you're so well known for your power and your cleverness, but in these stories Thor and everyone else ends up safe and with what they've wanted while you end up in chains. You, who is so clever and is constantly a half dozen steps ahead of everyone else."

He smiles, puts enough mortal money on the table to cover both their meals, and stands. Darcy tries to do the same, but he puts a hand on her shoulder to keep her seated. He bends to press a kiss to her cheek and say in her ear, "Hilarious, Miss Lewis. Happy Christmas."

Oh, these mortals. One, with a hint of intelligence and a few years of political schooling, has managed to uncover what has eluded the great leaders of the Nine Realms for many a millennia. Perhaps he should keep an eye on this one.

This'll be fun.


End file.
